Black Rabbit
by Ellster
Summary: With Ethan gone, the team has to take on two new members. But they can't be sure whom to trust.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

Antoine Morhange, night-guard at the Hobbleston office building in Brussels, Belgium, hardly took notice of the man in workman's overalls passing his reception desk. It wasn't unusual for technicians to come in for server maintenance in the middle of the night to not inconvenience anyone more than necessary. Neither did he notice the short flicker on his video screens two minutes later.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Luther quietly closed the door to the security office. He removed the tranquilizer dart from the guards uniform and carefully pushed her aside on her office chair to be able to access the computer. She would wake up again in about fifteen minutes, thinking she had dozed off. And since nothing would have happened in the meantime, no one would ever know about her unauthorized nap and there wouldn't even be a reprimand.

He pulled up the second chair that was standing in the corner and sat down in front of the video screens. With a quick glance, he checked if there was anything unusual they should know about before he connected their up-link. "East, you get that?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"I have eyes," Benji replied with an audible grin. He had won the position in the van by the sophisticated method of rock-paper-scissors. "South, you're good to go."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Acknowledged, going in," Brandt replied and stepped out of the shadows across from the back entrance. He waved a short greeting up at Ethan who was sitting in a window-cleaner rig two stories up, overlooking the alleyway. That had been a last minute addition to their plan when they had realized that this was the only side of the building not covered by public security cameras and they had decided that having an extra lookout against nasty surprises wouldn't hurt.

He suppressed a sigh and opened the door. The fact that that rig had just happened to be there still seemed like a little too much of a coincidence. What bothered him more was that he felt superfluous. Benji and Luther could have easily done this on their own. Having one of them watch the cameras and Ethan the outside while he went for the server room were small, unimportant details.

In fact, he didn't doubt that if need be either of the techies could have done it on their own. If he'd had to set up the mission, he'd have kept it down to one of them, and maybe a rookie. But as it was, Hunley himself had authorized this operation and it was beyond the analyst why he had assigned four of his best agents for what was a two-men job at most.

Forcefully he pushed the thought away as he made his way down the back stairs. The door at the end of the staircase opened automatically with a silent click before he could say anything. The corridor in front of him was simple gray concrete with unpainted metal doors. He found the server room just where he had expected it.

This door also opened as if by magic, although he knew it was Benji's doing. While the corridor outside had been illuminated by emergency exit signs, the server room was pitch black except for small green dots of light. Brandt switched on his torch and looked around. He had been given a very detailed description of what he was looking for and where he was likely going to find it, and so he had little trouble locating the access port. He fished the tiny transmitter out of his pocket and jammed it in. "East, you're connected."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Copy that," the techie replied cheerfully, while on a previously blank screen a list of folders started to appear. He opened a terminal and started putting in commands, then stopped for a second to stare. "Uh, it's not there."

"What do you mean, it's not there?" Luther asked sounding both incredulous and like a disappointed teacher.

"There's only paperwork, finance things," Benji replied, continuing his typing furiously.

Brandt bit his lip and did another long look around the room. "Wrong server?"

"No, it's the right place," Benji replied.

"Bad intel," Ethan pitched, resigned.

"No, this is the right place," Benji insisted, sounding harried. "It was here. The file was downloaded and deleted three minutes twenty seconds ago."

"Just before we came in. We would have seen them come out," Luther commented. The building bordered the Place Charles Rogier on two sides, which with its tram, bus and metro stops was well decked out in CCTV and the main entrance had its own security cameras. The only blind spot was the back entrance to the east, where Ethan was looking out and which had been locked until they had entered.

"Then they're still inside," Brandt concluded.

"If they were inside, I would see them," Benji insisted.

"They got out," Ethan decided. "And there's only one way they could have. I'm going after them."

"Three and a half minutes is a long time, North," Luther argued. "If they have a car they're gone."

"They're not gone," Hunt replied. He sounded slightly out of breath, but very sure.

The general bad feeling Brandt had had throughout the whole operation started to manifest itself as a knot in the pit of his stomach. He yanked the transmitter out of the bay and stormed out of the server room. The metal door fell shut behind him with an echoing clang.

"Ethan, wait!" he shouted, running up the stairs.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"If they were inside, I would see them."

Benji was right, Ethan thought. The camera coverage inside was absolute and that the techie had just missed them was unlikely. The only place where there were no cameras was the east exit and that was where he was watching. But if someone knew he was there, they could easily get by him. He cursed.

"They got out, and there's only one way they could have," he said, swinging himself over the railing of the window-cleaner rig. He let himself down with a rope, jumping the last half meter, and hit the ground running. "I'm going after them."

"If they have a car they're gone," Luther put in.

But Hunt knew they weren't, and said so. They still had unfinished business here.

He turned in the only logical directions, away from the square, away from the city center, away from the train station further north and any other place that likely had CCTV. Due east. For a moment he contemplated the Botanic Gardens as he passed, but the gate was locked and would have been hard to climb.

"Ethan, wait!" Brandt's voice sounded through his ear-piece as he turned to follow the fence to the next railway crossing. If they wanted to avoid public spaces they would have gone there rather than down the broad Avenue Boulevard.

The railway underpass was a broad tunnel with two lanes for traffic divided by stone pillars and completely empty. The yellow streetlights and boarded up shop-windows together with copious amounts of dust gave it an eerie, haunted feeling. But Ethan didn't pay attention to that. He looked ahead where a residential area with small houses and narrow streets built a stark contrast to the skyscrapers on the other side of the train lines, thinking about where they had likely gone.

Too late he realized his mistake. He only saw the man in the shadows when he ran right past him.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt just caught a glimpse of Ethan disappearing around the corner, when he came out of the back entrance. His strides lengthened as he ran down the street, although he knew that despite his longer legs catching up with Ethan was hardly more than wishful thinking. On a whim he drew his gun at a full run, thumping off the safety blindly.

He couldn't see Hunt when he reached the corner, but he had seen in which direction he had gone and instinctively knew where he was headed. East was the only direction that made sense, and Brandt crossed to the railway underpass on a least distance route, not even checking for potential cars on the road.

And there he saw him. Ethan was right in front of him at the other end of the tunnel, outlined as a shadow against the yellow lamps. He was stopping from a full run, turning on his heel towards something Brandt couldn't see, his gun half drawn. Before he could bring the weapon up fully, he suddenly bent over like a jackknife, stumbling backwards.

The sound of the gunshot was amplified by the arch of the tunnel and for a moment all Brandt could hear was a high whistling noise ringing in his ears. He wasn't sure if he was shouting, as he raised his own weapon, deaf to his own voice. Slowing down only enough to have a reasonably steady aim, he fired three shots, but his view was broken by the pillars in the middle of the road.

For a moment he caught sight of a man running and followed him, but he blended into the darkness like a shadow and at the edge of the tunnel the agent lost sight of him with no indication to where he had gone. With a silent curse, Brandt holstered his gun and turned around. Ethan was lying on the cold concrete in a crumpled heap, a dark pool forming under his torso.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

Luther returned the surveillance systems back to their standard operating mode in record time. He shoved his gear back into the tool bag without care for order and hurried outside, taking the stairs two steps at a time. The background noise on the radio was making him uneasy but before he entered the lobby he forced himself to slow down.

"We got a man down."

Brandt's voice sounded breathless over the radio yet eerily detached. That cool tone made Luther more apprehensive than the words themselves, but years of experience helped him project an outside calm. Inwardly he sighed with relief when the guard at the front desk simply waved him through.

Out on the street, Benji was waiting with the van. He stepped on the gas as soon as Luther was in, before he had even time to close the door.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt carefully turned over the limp body and found that Ethan was unconscious but breathing, which was more than he had expected. Hunts shirt was soaked, glistening darkly, which made it hard to make out details, but the analyst thought he could see three small circular rips clustered around the center of his thorax.

Taking off his jacket, Brandt misused the garment to apply pressure. "Ethan!" he called and shook him lightly by the shoulders, but there was no reaction. He looked up when he heard a car approaching. Up until now, it hadn't even occurred to him to move to the sidewalk.

Benji parked the van right next to them and anxiously watched through the rear-view mirror while the other two agents carried the motionless form inside. He swallowed at the sight. "We have to get him to a hospital."

Luther exchanged a knowing glance with Brandt, then wordlessly shook his head. The small gesture sent shivers down Benji's spine, but he understood and headed to their safe-house instead. Going to the hospital was a certain risk. It meant involving local authorities which would lead to a lot of hassle for the IMF and probably disavowal for them.

Benji knew that risk, and he knew that each of them was willing to take it. If there was a chance that it would help.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

They put Ethan on the floor because there they had the most space. While Luther went to check on their medical supplies, Benji positioned himself by Ethan's head to keep an eye on his vitals. His breathing was slow, but astonishingly deep, as if he was just sleeping. To Benji every breath he counted was like a new stab of guilt. He couldn't help feeling that if they got him to a doctor, maybe something could be done, although rationally he knew it wouldn't make a difference.

Meanwhile, Brandt cut open the front of the shirt, or at least tried to. His pocket knife sliced easily through the first inch of fabric, but then bounced off as if it had suddenly gone dull. Brandt narrowly avoided cutting his own fingers. He stared at the blade for a moment, then felt the edge of the shirt.

There was a second layer underneath the actual shirt material that was invisible from the outside. It was a tougher and denser material, feeling slick to his touch. When he ran his hand over it, he realized it was also continuous, untouched by the bullets that had ripped through the outer layer.

While Brandt's brain still processed what he had found, Benji started when a pair of green-tinged blue eyes suddenly stared up at him. "Ethan?!" he called with a mix of shocked surprise and disbelief.

Hunt blinked at him slowly a couple of times before he responded with a tight smile. "Hey," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You got to be kidding me," Luther muttered in the background.

Brandt still stared at the red liquid dripping from his hands, then wiped them on his equally dripping jacket. "Theater blood," he muttered with a resigned sigh before his anger won out. "Ethan, what the fuck is this?"

"A prototype," Ethan replied curtly and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Bulletproof shirt," Benji stated with a childlike awe. "I thought they weren't out of testing yet."

Hunt smiled wryly. "Just had its first field trial," he said and tried to sit up. He came dangerously close to falling over before Benji and Brandt managed to catch him. They propped him up between them and he took a couple of deliberate deep breaths.

"Looks like this still needs some refinement," Brandt replied dryly, but his gaze was clearly concerned now.

"It did work," Ethan replied, but his pained grimace told a different story. Luther wordlessly offered him some painkillers and he swallowed them dry.

"Let's get this thing off," Luther decided.

It took all four of them to accomplish that task. The prototype fabric was tight and slick with fake blood and Ethan himself wasn't much help.

Even before the last of the fake blood was cleaned off, thick black bruises were clearly visible on his chest where the bullets had hit. Just from looking at it Luther suspected that he had not just cracked but severely fractured several ribs and probably his sternum.

"That looks bad," Benji summed up his own thoughts. "You should have a doctor look at that."

"I can't if I want to stay officially dead," Ethan replied.

Brandt noted that none of them seemed overly surprised by that. "And why do you want to be dead? Officially."

"I need to fall off the map for a while," Hunt answered curtly.

The analyst couldn't contain an unsatisfied sigh.

"Cut the crap, Ethan," Luther demanded. He had found some elastic bandages and started applying them for support. "After tonight you owe us some very good explanation."

Ethan flinched when the bandage was pulled tight. "There's a mole in the IMF. We've suspected there is someone selling information to the outside since our encounter with the Horsemen, but considering what happened in Oslo and London and more recently after the conference, we were sure that there was some kind of leak," he explained. "So we did some digging and discovered inconsistency connected to those and several other missions. They are only minor details each, but put together there is definitely a pattern."

"Hold on," Benji interrupted. "Who's 'we'?"

"Hunley, Elaine and me," Ethan answered.

"And you didn't think to tell me, why?" Brandt asked sounding hurt, but the answer already occurred to him as he posed the question. "Don't say plausible deniability."

Ethan nodded. "We thought it best to have as few people informed as possible, for your safety, too," he answered. "If I had known about tonight I would have told you, but I thought I still had a few days."

"So you knew this would happen?"

"I suspected they were onto me and wanted me out of the way," Ethan admitted. "I didn't think they'd come after me tonight. But I had a close call in Geneva last week, so I thought it better to play it safe."

"So we have one or more rogue agents leaking information who want you dead," Brandt summed up with a sigh, "and now they have -"

"The MARV!" Benji exclaimed and suddenly had all eyes on him.

"Wait," Luther interjected, looking angrily from Ethan to Benji and back. "You said it was a ledger!"

Everyone turned questioningly to Benji. "Well, that's what I thought, too," he replied. "But I saw the metadata, and I'm sure that's what it was. There just wasn't any time to tell you."

"Fuck," Luther said quietly.

"And what exactly is this MARV?" Brandt asked.

"MARV stands for Aggressive Multiplicative Rabbit Virus. Although technically that would be AMRV, but no one could pronounce that, so..." Benji said, then noticed he was going off on a tangent and stopped.

"You know it as Black Rabbit," Luther put in and when he mentioned the project codename realization struck with the other two agents.

"The Oslo hard-drive."

Luther nodded. "Exactly," he confirmed. "What it does once it is executed is mirroring random processes that take up more and more space."

"The problem is that these mirror processes are exact copies of valid requests that in turn trigger other functions, so it's not just virtually undetectable by anti-virus software, it also keeps using up more and more space at an exponential rate until the system is slowed down to the point where for all intents and purposes it can't function anymore," Benji elaborated. "And when it is on a networked computer that includes data sent to other devices, so it creates a ripple effect that ultimately shuts down the whole network. Which is what happened to our tech department back in January. Now imagine what would happen if that got into some company network or even the internet. With the kind of interconnectedness we have nowadays, everyone would be screwed. And I'm not just saying private people and companies, traffic lights, public transport, they all rely on the internet. It would be havoc."

"And how did that virus get here?" Brandt asked.

"Well, I'd think that this was the original," Benji answered as if that was obvious. "The coding had some very advanced protection, to the point where it's virtually impossible to copy because it was originally built to test security measures on company servers, so the original creators didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands. We do know that the version we had was only a knockoff itself, sort of a working version to use for tests and that there has to be at least one more copy. The original master-file, which I think was on that server, that can be copied, although it would take a lot of skill and knowledge and time."

"In the end, the virus was never used for a real test because it was deemed too dangerous after it shut down several closed networks. We know that Schäfer and Thomas were involved in the original creation and we think that they kept a copy for themselves to use against their enemies or sell on the black market," Luther added. "That means there probably aren't that many more copies out there because they would be careful not to harm their own business, but we can only know how many if we have the master copy."

There was a pause while everyone let that information settle in. Then Brandt spoke up. "And what do we do now?"

"You're going to follow protocol," Ethan decided. The bandaging was finished and he got up, still a little shaky but without help. He picked a button-down shirt out of the well-stocked closet and stiffly put it on while he continued: "You're going to call in as scheduled and report me dead. And as soon as there's new intel you'll probably be tasked with tracking down and retrieving the virus."

"And you?" Luther asked.

"I'm going to disappear," Ethan replied, already at the door.

"Ethan, wait," Benji called, a cold anger burning in his voice as he quickly crossed the room. "Because you kept us in the dark, you endangered us and this mission. You knew that and you did it anyway. You got us all scared and now you're just going away."

Ethan was suddenly very aware that he was a head shorter than the other agent. He had to think of Kings Cross when he had literally walked out on them and now he felt just as guilty as he had once he had learned what had happened next. He braced himself for the punch in the face he certainly deserved, but instead was caught in a warm hug. After a short moment of surprise, Ethan returned the embrace.

"Take care," Benji said. Then, remembering something, dug in his pocket and handed him a bracelet. "Actually, take this."

Ethan took it and examined it carefully. It was made of what looked like sleek black stones cut in an identical cylindrical shape. He glanced back up at Benji quizzically.

"It's a prototype," the techie explained. "Each of those is a miniature smoke bomb. They're activated by the magnetic clasp when you slide them off and triggered on impact. The guys in R&D asked me to have a look but I think maybe you need it more."

"Thanks," Ethan smiled and slipped it on.

Benji returned the smile, although it looked a bit forced, and stepped back.

"Don't fuck this up," Luther reminded him when he gave him a quick hug.

"I won't," Ethan promised, his eyes asking 'when have I ever?', but not daring to actually pose the question. Then he looked at Brandt.

The analyst stepped forward hesitantly, but then hugged him, too. "You know I really liked that jacket?" he said when they let go again.

"I'll buy you a new one when this is over," Ethan replied apologetically but there was the hint of a grin flashing over his face. Then he was gone.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Night was slowly turning into morning as Brandt wandered the streets of Brussels that were almost deserted at this time of day. What he was about to do felt weird on a lot of levels. Although he technically was Hunt's superior in the IMF hierarchy there had never been any question about Ethan taking the lead on missions.

But now that Ethan had disappeared Brandt was in charge, which not only felt very strange but also made him irrationally nervous. Probably, he thought, because the last time he had actually headed a mission had been Croatia.

He pushed the thought away and concentrated on finding the pay-phone that was supposedly hanging inside the train station. He had wondered before how something so archaic still existed in most major cities, but then IMF likely wouldn't just let them be taken down.

Making sure he was alone in the passage, he stepped up to the phone and dialed up the number every IMF agent knew by heart. "Consolidated Insurance," the sweet voice of the operator came back out of the phone. "How may I help you?"

Brandt stated his name and ID code.

"Agent confirmed." the operator replied. "I'll put you through. Just a moment."

Through to whom? Brandt wondered. He was mildly surprised when a moment later the secretary of the IMF was on the other end.

"Brandt," Hunley greeted him curtly. "Where is Agent Hunt?"

"Dead," Brandt replied and although it wasn't true he could hear his voice catch. He took a deep breath. "There was a team of armed hostiles. We lost the objective."

There was a short pause and in front of his mind's eye, he could see Hunley nodding thoughtfully.

"Body?" the secretary asked.

"We had to dump it," Brandt replied. "Securely."

He was horribly aware of the subtext. No sweepers required. Ethan disavowed, whereabouts unknown, presumed dead.

Considering Hunley was in on everything, Brandt hoped he wouldn't lock him out of the system completely, but immediately realized that to keep up appearances the secretary wouldn't have any other choice.

"I understand," Hunley replied. "Anything else?"

"No, sir," Brandt answered.

"Alright," the secretary said. "Wait for further instructions."

"Yes, sir," Brandt replied, suppressing a sigh. The phone beeped quietly and he hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

 _He was running down the street into the tunnel. Yellow street-lamps painting stripes onto the asphalt. The pillars that divided the street into two lanes looming forebodingly to his left, shadowy shapes, seemingly moving as he ran past._

 _He knew what was going to happen. But he couldn't stop, couldn't turn. His body was running on autopilot, until he had passed the spot._

 _The sound of the gunshots bounced off the stone walls, seemingly amplified with every echo, making it impossible to determine how many there were. He could feel something hit his stomach, but no pain._

 _Surprised, he looked down expecting to see blood, but there was nothing. Then his gaze wandered further down._

 _Brandt had shoved him aside and was now lying at his feet, a hole gaping in his chest. His eyes seemed to look right through him in a sad accusation._

 _"Why didn't you tell me, Ethan?" he whispered in a hoarse voice. "I trusted you..."_

Ethan woke with a start and reflexively reached behind his back where he had had a gun tucked away earlier, but wasn't surprised to not find it there. After leaving the safe-house he had set out to acquire some supplies: Money, passport, a bag with a change of clothes. All those things he could have gotten much more easily in the IMF flat but he hadn't wanted to leave any hint he had walked out of there on his own.

After that he had considered his next move, and once he had settled on taking the first international train out as the best option, he had ditched everything that wouldn't have passed through the metal detector. He would have to get a new handgun in London, but that wasn't a problem.

Outside fields rolled past behind a curtain of rain that was relentlessly drumming against the windows. The overhead display in the corridor told him they had just passed Lille Europe. He had slept hardly half an hour. Ethan leaned back in his seat with a sigh and was about to close his eyes again, when he realized that it was his phone that had woken him. A message had arrived, time-coded two minutes earlier. A single word:

Glasgow.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 _Good morning, Agent Brandt._

Their new instructions had come in a few hours after he had given his report to Hunley in form of a pepperoni pizza they had subsequently shared for breakfast while discussing the situation. The file they had been supposed to secure the previous night had been tracked to Felix van Hauenstein, a journalist who had a habit of selling information and who was apparently planning to sell the virus to the highest bidder.

Brandt's idea was to infiltrate the auction, reprising Benji's role as Jonathan Baker, an alias Hauenstein was familiar with from the last two times they had run into him. What made him slightly nervous was that so far they had next to no information. That was supposedly being collected by the two agents they had been assigned as their backup.

Agents Leandre and de la Vega both had very standard files. Enough field experience to not count as rookies, but nothing outstanding, good or bad.

Adrienne Leandre was a certified pilot and an expert sniper. Subsequently she had worked mostly backup in the five years she had spent with the IMF, but her record showed she could also handle herself in hand-to-hand combat.

Ricarda de la Vega seemed to be the absolute opposite. She excelled in several close quarter fighting styles and had experience with handling explosives, but also advanced skills in makeup and disguise, an interesting mixture that might come in handy.

With Benji, Luther and himself it was a good team-up, diverse skill-set, solid experience. Still he felt nervous, wishing it was just him and the techies. Or at least someone he knew, someone he trusted. Keeping secrets from his own team was something that just shouldn't happen, not when it could impact their mission. This was what got people killed.

He took a deep breath and leaned back, pushing the thought away. They had all decided to catch some sleep on the flight to Glasgow but only Luther had actually done it, dozing quietly in a tipped back seat a few rows in front. Benji was sitting across from the analyst and looked up, flashing him a quick smile, before he returned to his relentless typing. For a moment Brandt considered closing his eyes at least for a little bit, but just then the fasten seatbelt signs came on. They were landing.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Leandre and de la Vega were waiting for them outside the airport next to a black BMW. It was hard to discern who of them was the more curious looking. Ricarda definitely stood out with a red leather jacket over tight black jeans and studded boots. Her seemingly flawless ocher complexion was framed by a crown of dark brown hair which she had managed to secure in a bun without loosing any of its natural volume.

Adrienne was the polar opposite. She had very fair skin, her warm, round face dotted with tiny freckles. Her tight red curls were barely contained in her ponytail and in her heels stood even taller than Benji or Brandt, making the other woman look petite in comparison. Her outfit consisted of a blue shirt blouse that was tucked into a dark pencil skirt that made Benji wonder how she could even walk in it.

She proved that she could not just walk but also drive in it, when she automatically took the driver's seat a moment later. De la Vega rode shotgun, confining the men to the back-seats. The short car ride was spent in silence after she told them that the details of what they had found would be better explained in the safe-house.

"This is where the auction is going to be," de la Vega said, tapping at the circled spot on the large map that was spread over the table. "The Lighthouse, an art gallery and event venue. Specifically the tower room."

On the wall behind her a three-dimensional representation of the building appeared, a large, square construction with an octagonal tower at one corner that reached above the roof. A slice of that tower was marked red. "That's the room," Leandre explained. "First floor, small windows, thick walls, solid stone, no vent shafts, one exit. One way street on one side, narrow but busy alleyway on the other."

"The room seats a maximum of ten people, so van Hauenstein has set the maximal number of bidders at ten on a first come first serve basis," de la Vega continued. "That means only one of us can actually go in. The auction is set for today at 13:00 local time."

Brandt checked his watch. That would give them less than four hours of preparation.

"So one of us goes in and buys the thing," Luther proposed.

"That's not going to work," de la Vega replied, as if she had waited for it. "Van Hauenstein has set the starting price at 52 million pounds and he will only take cash. We have checked our supplies, but we can't turn up enough money, especially considering the price will rise during the auction."

"What if we kidnap one of the other buyers and take his money?" Benji suggested.

Leandre shook her head. "We don't know who the buyers are until they're in the room and in that kind of tight space with that many people it's going to be impossible to snatch anything."

"We go in, tag the buyer and get the disc later," Brandt decided with a grimace. There were so many options that could go wrong. If they lost the buyer. Or they couldn't get at the disc before the virus was uploaded somewhere. And there was that feeling of foreboding in the back of his head that just wouldn't go away.

"Alright," he announced. "We got three hours. How do we do this?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The safe house was a thin two story building south of the city center, just over the river, blending in to the surrounding houses so much it was hard to tell from the outside where one started and the other ended. The house on the opposite side of the road was taller and had dormer windows sticking out of the roof like small towers. Behind one of those windows someone sat with a pair of binoculars, noting down every detail.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

"Alright, I'm set," Luther announced from the van. "We've got cameras in the building and the surrounding streets, but there's not much coverage. I've got the lobby and bits of street a couple of hundred yards away."

"Understood," Brandt sighed. It was far from ideal, but there was nothing they could do about that. At least they would have Benji's camera. "Everyone, check in."

The responses of his teammates came in quick succession and while he listened, Brandt let his gaze wander around the room. He was sitting on a low sofa in the lobby of the Lighthouse and Agent de la Vega was standing in the opposite corner of the room, ready to follow anyone leaving the building. He knew that Agent Leandre was waiting outside in the narrow alleyway the main entrance opened to, with a spray-can of slightly radioactive marker fluid in her pocket in case they couldn't get close enough for a GPS tracer. And Luther had parked the van in the one-way street on the other side of the building, so even if they didn't catch them at the entrance they were covered.

Brandt took a deep breath. It was a good plan. Not entirely foolproof, but when were they ever. Still, something made him nervous.

"There's Hauenstein," Ricarda suddenly said in his earplug.

He turned to the door, the tall red-head was hard to miss. Hauenstein walked across the lobby as if he owned the place and headed straight for the stairs. "Benji, your turn."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Benji was wearing a black suit with an intricately patterned black and silver tie, his hair slicked back flat and orderly against his head. His face was not unfriendly, but stern, lacking its usual expressiveness and overall he looked very un-Benji-like as he strode across the stone floor almost exactly where Hauenstein had walked before.

He walked straight up the stairs at the other end of the lobby, the briefcase in his hand swinging slightly with every step. They had scraped together all the cash resources they could find, knowing it wouldn't be 52 million, but hoping they could make it look that way long enough so that he would at least be admitted to the auction. And they had also thought of adding a tracer. Not that it was immediately connected to their mission, but it seemed to be a good idea to keep an eye on Hauenstein.

On the second floor, he found a door with an ornate wooden sign labeling it as the Tower Room and opened it. Inside Hauenstein was waiting, leaning against the wall between the windows. There were more men in suits scattered around the room, but his gaze was immediately on Benji. "Mr. Baker," he said in his curious staccato accent. "I had hoped you would come."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Outside in the van, Luther followed Benji on screen, through the camera in his jacket button. The picture shook slightly as he walked up the stairs, showed his hand as he pulled the door open. And then it was suddenly gone.

Luther frowned at the static and tried to reconnect, but nothing happened. He checked the connection, but there was nothing there. "I've lost Benji's signal," he announced. "The camera's gone, too."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

In the lobby, Brandt bit his lip to not curse out loud. Now they had no way of knowing what was going on in the Tower Room. For a moment he considered going after Benji, but with no indication, there was trouble that would only risk screwing up their plan. He would just have to hope Benji was fine.

"I'm going out," he decided and got up, folding his newspaper. It was utopic to think he could look inside, considering the narrow streets, but it also could be good to have another vantage point. "Vega, cover for me here."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The silent click of the door closing behind Benji sounded weirdly out of place in the room that seemed to be right out of a medieval castle where a heavy wooden door would have been expected. It also suddenly brought to his attention how silent it was, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because there was none of the familiar background chatter in his radio ear-bug. It made him feel very alone.

"Welcome, Mr. Baker. Come in," van Hauenstein said, greeting him with open arms and the agent stepped forward reluctantly. "Or should I say, Agent Dunn?"

A chill ran down Benji's spine. How did he know his name? He hadn't let it slip the two times they had met before, he was sure of that. But maybe someone else had?

No, he thought, remembering what Ethan had said about the mole in the IMF. They had been sold out again. Now the whole team was in danger and he was right in the middle of it, with no way to warn them.

"Now, Mr. Dunn, there is no need to deny it," Hauenstein continued. "I know your identity. And that you are something of a specialist in the field of computers. That's why I want to make you an offer."

Benji's gaze around the room had told him there were four more men present beside him and Hauenstein. Tall men, no doubt armed, strategically positioned on either side of the door and left and right of him. To warn the others he'd have to get out and still be alive. "I don't think I'm in the position to accept any offers," he replied diplomatically.

"Don't worry," the tall man replied with a thin grin. "You're team can't hear you. We've jammed your radio transmitters."

Which would explain the sudden silence, Benji thought and swallowed. Better to play along now. "And what are you offering?"

"Money, mainly," Hauenstein smiled. "The contents of that briefcase for once, and at least that much again from my personal accounts in whatever form and currency you'd prefer. Plus any non-financial assets you require to disappear if you'd like to do that afterward."

He reached behind his back and produced a small laptop computer. He opened it, the display facing Benji. "What I need you to do is access the network of your organization and retrieve certain files for me."

In the back of his mind, Benji wondered who would ever need that much money, although he was sure there were enough people willing to do anything for that kind of sum, even in the IMF. "And what if I refuse?"

"Then I will make you an offer you can't refuse," van Hauenstein replied, his smile turning cold.

The air in the small room suddenly seemed to be hot and stuffy, and although they were only six people, Benji started to feel claustrophobic. He had to get out if only to warn the rest of his team, but the door was blocked.

Benji made a decision. "No, thank you," he said. Taking one step forward, he swung the money briefcase at van Hauenstein's head, where the sturdy attache connected with a crashing sound. On the backhand swing, he hurled it out of the window and himself after it, crashing through the remaining framework with his back.

He had chosen the right window that looked out over the small alleyway, hoping to get lost more easily in the confusion. In his fall, Benji managed to grasp a neon sign that hung suspended between the Lighthouse and the opposite building, just beneath the window. The sign ripped off on one side but broke his fall a little. It was not enough to land on his feet, but he rolled over quickly and he started into a run down the narrow corridor.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt had just rounded the corner when he heard a crashing sound above. He looked up just quickly enough to see the attache case narrowly missing his head. Turning around he just saw a figure disappearing down the narrow street and took off after him.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"The signal's back."

Benji was relieved to hear Luther's voice in his ear again. Whatever they had done to his radio seemed to be confined to the room. "It's a trap," he explained breathlessly. "They're after me."

He had reached the end of the narrow alleyway and turned right into a broad but thankfully populated shopping street.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt hadn't gotten two meters far when three black-suited men came out of the front door of the Lighthouse right in front of him, running in the same direction. He decided to risk the possibility of hurting a civilian and smashed the first of them into his colleague. Next to him, Leandre swung the third of them head-first into a wall. She almost hit de la Vega in the same motion, who was coming after the three goons.

"One of them called for backup," Ricarda reported.

Brandt cursed then ran off down the corridor. "Benji, you'll have to lose them," he said. "We'll try to cover you."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"They're behind you, Benji. Don't turn around."

Luther had used the tap he had already had in the public CCTV system to locate Hauenstein's backup and direct Benji around them. A lot of it was guesswork, the smaller side streets weren't covered by camera's and the main shopping streets were crowded, yet the goons seemed to be everywhere.

"Stay on the main street. Don't go into the subway."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

With the crowds slowing him down considerably, Benji had considered heading into the underground station, but just as he heard Luther's warning, he saw the two black suits running up the stairs. He rounded the station and continued running straight across the square. The crowd was thinner here, but he knew he was effectively clearing a way for his pursuers, too.

At the end of the square, he hit a crossroads and narrowly escaped being run over by a motorbike that had veered onto the sidewalk. Wide-eyed he watched as the biker did a narrow U-turn on the one-way-street, then he sprinted right across the road and down the street straight ahead, hoping the additional turn would slow the motorcycle down.

He seemed to be in a residential area now and at least there seemed to be no more suits ahead of him, but he knew he was headed straight for the river and before that a busy main road. The narrow side street branching off ahead looked very inviting in comparison, but he couldn't risk being stuck in a dead end. "Where do I go?"

"Straight ahead."

Luther's voice sounded strangely muffled but sure. Behind Benji the engine on the motorbike roared, quickly getting closer. Tapping into his last reserves, he sprinted on and right into the busy main road. Ignoring the squealing tires around him, he headed for the opposite curb. Just as he reached the saving sidewalk, there was another tire squeal and the noise of glass and metal breaking.

Benji risked a quick look back. Behind him, the biker was picking himself off of the front of a white van, while Luther scrambled out of the driver's seat and knocked out two of the suits in quick succession. Still at least one of his pursuers was already making his way around the back of the car, so he quickly turned left away from them, but as he did he could already see two more running towards him on the sidewalk. He found he had two options:

His first impulse was to the stairs down to the riverside walk. But that was a narrow path with the river on one side and there were several bridges, so he didn't know when he could turn back towards the city. Also, there weren't a lot of people going that way, giving his pursuers a clear line of fire and something told him they probably wouldn't care much for capturing him alive.

So instead he put in as much speed as he could to reach it before the suits and then turned right onto the South Portland Street Suspension Bridge. It was just broad enough to let two cyclists pass each other comfortably and right then packed with pedestrians and bicycles headed towards or away from the city center and tourists taking pictures of the river. They were spreading left and right, pressing themselves against the railing as he ran into the crowd with no intention of slowing down.

Benji charged on, still hoping to outrun the suits. He knew he was getting tired and as soon as they were off the bridge they were in a residential area with broad open streets and no more crowds to hide in, but if a fight was going to be inevitable, he'd rather do it with fewer people around. And maybe his team would have enough time to catch up on him, so he wouldn't have to face all these goons alone.

He took a quick glance back to see how close his pursuers were and almost ran into a biker who hadn't managed to get out of the way in time. Instinctively the agent took a step to the right, only there was nothing to his right. At first it was only the stinging pain in the lower part of his right ribcage and the fact that his feet suddenly had no contact to the floor anymore that told him he was going over the railing, but while he was falling he noticed a little scared that he had missed the first lamp post by hardly an inch.

While his mind was still trying to catch up, his fingers were on autopilot, clutching everything they came into contact with. He noticed the not quite painful yet increasingly unpleasant feeling of his fingernails scratching over metal and ultimately breaking at the base. And then there suddenly wasn't anything more to cling to. He braced himself for the hard, wet and cold impact into the waters of the river Clyde.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Ethan cursed himself for not following the others when they had headed out into the city. He had set up his room near the apartment they used as their base of operations, precisely so he could supervise it and see when they were coming and going. However, when they had gone out for the auction, he had been close on a very promising lead and decided to follow it instead of them.

He had had a tap into their radio and it hadn't taken him long to reconsider when Benji's signal was suddenly gone, but he had still been too far out. So he had followed Benji's progress and decided to come at him from the other side, take out any goons that might have made it around, back him up once he was past and hope not to run into anyone who shouldn't recognize him.

But now he was stuck on the bridge. It was the shortest route and since he didn't have a car he had also thought it to be the quickest one, but he hadn't anticipated it to be so packed. He was itching to run, but that would have drawn too much attention to him. So he could only hope Benji made it across before the suits caught up with him.

And then he had to stop. All the people on the bridge seemed to be crowding around a spot on the upstream side as if drawn there by a magnet. He also spotted two of the black suits coming up from the opposite bank, but no Benji.

Words drifted over from the crowd, something about a fall, someone calling the police. He checked the map display on his phone, the dot that had been Benji's radio transmitter was gone. Ethan decided his friend was likely taking an involuntary swim.

He glanced over the downstream railing, but there was no one to be seen. Without thinking twice, he pocketed his phone and kicked off his shoes, then threw them and his jacket into the shrubbery beside the bridge. He ran a few paces onto the bridge to not land on the bank and while everyone else was still watching the spot where Benji had fallen in, on the other side Ethan jumped over the railing.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Swimming proved to be more difficult than Benji had thought. The fall had given him just enough time to take a deep breath, but although he had braced himself the impact in the icy water had beaten most of that out of him. His clothes quickly soaked and his already sore muscles cramped from the cold.

Despite his training, he could feel panic rising inside him. His lungs were demanding air he couldn't give them and as he forced his tired muscles to propel him forward, he wasn't even sure up was where he thought it to be.

He was tired. After putting all his energy into running there was barely any left for swimming.

Then suddenly he felt someone grab him by his collar and with his hope renewed by the unexpected upwards thrust, he mobilized his last reserves. A moment later his head breached the surface. Spluttering, he gasped for breath, the wind feeling cold on his wet skin, but he didn't care as air streamed back into his lungs.

While he was still trying to catch his breath, he was already dragged to the shore. The bank opposite from where he had come from, he realized as he looked back at the bridge that was not as distant as he had thought.

Soon enough he felt more or less solid ground under his feet and scrambled up the muddy, stone-dotted shore just to collapse as soon as he was out of the water. A wet thud told him, that his savior was right next to him. Picking up his last bit of strength, he turned around to see who it was and gasped in surprise.

"Ethan?" he asked, his voice still slightly raspy from the water that had somehow found its way into his throat. The unmistakable face was framed by hair dark with water but clearly dyed lighter than its usual color and Benji wasn't sure he'd have recognized him dry.

There was a hint of a smile on Hunt's face, but before Benji could ask anything else he stood up. "Meet me in an hour, casino in the Corinthian Club," he said. "You, Luther, Brandt, no one else."

"Whoa, wait! What?" Benji asked, his mind still trying to comprehend what was happening, but Ethan had already disappeared in the shrubbery further up the bank.

Dunn was still trying to scramble to his feet when he heard something above him. Looking up, he saw Brandt breaking through the bushes above the shore, the rest of the team close behind. "Benji, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his look trailing back to the place where Ethan had vanished only moments before, but if either of them had seen him, at least they didn't show. For a moment he thought about telling them of the meeting right there, but then decided there was a reason Hunt had excluded Leandre and de la Vega. "I'm fine," he repeated, somewhat more convincingly and fought himself to his feet. His thoughts were still somewhere else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

By the time they made their way out of the shrubbery, they could hear sirens wailing and blue lights were flashing along the opposite bank. Still, they had no effort making it to their safe-house undetected, which was luckily not far away.

While de la Vega organized sweepers to take care of the car and the busted up suits they had left scattered over the city center, Benji headed straight for the bathroom. He was still fighting with his wet shirt when Brandt brought him a stack of fresh clothes he had found in the wardrobes.

"You ok?" the analyst asked again.

"Yeah," Benji replied, then quickly told him of his encounter with Ethan.

Brandt's already perpetual frown deepened for a moment, then he sighed. "Alright," he replied and headed back out of the bathroom.

When Benji emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, everyone else was sitting around the large table in what in a regular apartment would be the living room, perched behind various computer screens. Leandre just put down her phone.

"Good news," she said. "Sort of. The sweepers got Hauenstein and eleven of his guys, although we don't know that there aren't more. Most of them got beaten up, but all are still alive. Only Hauenstein is seriously injured, skull fracture. He's in a coma now and the doctors say if he walks away from that it will probably be with some brain damage."

Benji flinched as she said it. While he knew that in his work it was sometimes unavoidable, he still didn't want to kill anyone. Even someone like van Hauenstein.

"One less leak to pluck," de la Vega muttered darkly.

"Also from the preliminary interviews it seems like the suits were just hired muscle," Adrienne continued. "They can't tell us where he had that kind of sensitive information from, but at least if there are still others out there they don't have any information they can pass on to anyone."

Brandt sighed and got up. "Good work," he said, pocketing his own phone. "I have a contact in town, I'll take Luther and Benji to meet him."

Luther raised on questioning eyebrow but Brandt's gaze silenced him before he could ask.

"Alright," de la Vega said flatly. Only Adrienne seemed visibly miffed.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"So, this contact of yours," Luther started as soon as they were out of the door, then left the sentence hanging as a question.

Benji exchanged a look with Brandt, then repeated his report as they followed their earlier route back into the city center. He hesitated momentarily when they reached the bridge, casting a quick glance at the shrubbery, but then swallowed down his feeling of foreboding and continued.

Although the bridge was still busy, the crowds had thinned when the sky had clouded over earlier, driving tourists into cafés for warm drinks. The emergency vehicles were gone, too, and the only reminders of what had happened were black tire marks on the asphalt.

The Corinthian was a tall sandstone building with statues decorating the front, giving it a regal atmosphere. Still, among the similar buildings that lined the streets in this part of the city it wasn't very outstanding, from the outside at least.

The inside was more remarkable, wealth displayed openly yet without being overly obnoxious, every room a different setting, but always with a feeling of luxury. The casino was decorated in black leather and dark wood with gold detailing but didn't feel oppressive. When they entered there were only a few early players at the slot machines and a lonely croupier skillfully shuffling cards at a table.

They crossed the room towards the bar, which was equally empty, and Brandt would have missed the single man sitting in a booth by the large window front if Benji hadn't pointed him out. Only as they came closer he recognized Ethan under the shock of hazelnut-brown hair that framed his face.

A bartender appeared out of nowhere when they slid into the opposite bench and took their orders, reappearing only moments later with their drinks.

"Are you alright?" Ethan asked, looking at each of them in turn, then finally resting his gaze on Benji.

Dunn nodded. "I'm fine," he replied. "And thanks."

Ethan just nodded back, then looked at all of them. "What happened?"

"We had intel Hauenstein was selling the virus to the highest bidder," Brandt explained. "It was a setup."

"He had information on me," Benji added. "Tried to make me get him IMF files."

"Had?" Ethan interrupted, stressing the past tense.

"Hauenstein is not a problem anymore," Brandt said diplomatically.

Hunt raised an eyebrow but didn't ask further.

"What do we do now?" Luther asked.

Ethan looked down into his glass. "I'm trying to track the virus. I've got a lead, but I don't know where it's going yet," he said, sounding unsatisfied. "Still, now we know Hauenstein is – was – involved, maybe that's going to get us somewhere."

"You know, Ethan," Brandt put in, "if I could tell what's really going on to the rest of my team?"

Ethan shook his had. "Think," he said. "Who knew about your mission? Who knew Benji was going in? Where did you get your intel from?"

Benji blinked at him. "You think it's one of them?"

"I think it's possible," Ethan qualified and got up. "Go back to the safe house, see if you can follow up on Hauenstein."

No one questioned his decision, although they didn't look very happy either. Just as he turned around, Luther called after him. "And you?"

Ethan looked back. His eyes seemed to make contact with Benji a moment longer than with the others. "I'll be in touch," he replied. Then he walked away.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

They walked the way back to the safe-house in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bad feeling Brandt had picked up in Brussels had been steadily growing since. He had seen what it could do to agents if they didn't talk to each other, yet he was keeping potentially vital information from his own team, just like he knew Ethan was keeping secrets from them.

He still trusted Ethan, and he knew why they were doing it. But this could be dangerous. And in their line of work dangerous easily turned into deadly.

With a sigh, he opened the door and almost walked into Benji who had stopped in the middle of the doorway. When he stepped aside to let the others in, Brandt could see why.

The room was a mess. The table in the center was turned over, one leg hanging off at an odd angle. One chair was sticking half inside a wall. Cups and computers were lying broken on the floor between splatters of tea and coffee.

Guns drawn the agents silently spread out in the apartment. "Leandre?" Benji called into the room. "De la Vega? Anyone?" His words echoed unanswered from the walls.

While Luther stayed downstairs to search the bathroom and kitchen, Brandt followed Benji up the winding staircase that led to the bedrooms.

He quickly established that the first room he went into was empty, with all closets ripped open there was little space for anyone to hide. The second room was in a similar shape and when Brandt returned to the hallway and Benji wasn't there he assumed the other agent might have found something in the third upstairs room. But the last bedroom was also empty.

"Benji?" Brandt called tentatively. He took another quick look into the other rooms, in case they had passed each other without noticing. But there was no reply and no Benji.

With a sense of looming dread, he headed back down the stairs. As soon as he had a view into the main room he noticed that the front door was open although he was sure they had closed it earlier. "Luther?" he called.

He looked around the room for more signs of the two agents while he descended the staircase, still hoping for an answer. He wanted to call for them again but knew better than to draw any more attention to himself. Either the intruders had still been inside or they had come back, but if they were here now, they probably already knew where he was and he had lost the moment of surprise.

Brandt turned towards the kitchen door which also stood slightly ajar, trying to make as little noise as possible. But just after he had stepped away from the stairs a feathered dart embedded itself into the plastered wall behind him.

Instinctively he lunged sideways and rolled, thereby also escaping the second shot. Coming back to his feet he could see his attacker standing in the door to the kitchen, taking aim. They were separated by about five meters of space and one thrown over chair. Too much for Brandt to get to the man before he could shoot and little enough that shot would be hard to miss.

But right next to him was the front door. Jumping sideways the dart missed him, bouncing off the door frame. Brandt didn't hesitate. As soon as he got the floor back under his feet, he threw the door shut and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six**

Ethan had followed the others closely when they headed back to the safe-house, leaving just enough distance between them and himself to not be associated with them by any casual observer. Hardly a minute after they had entered their apartment he was climbing the steps to his own little flat, a room on the top floor of the building facing the safe-house from the other side of the street.

He hung his jacket over the only chair and flipped open the laptop computer on the desk, while his glance habitually drifted out of the window. It got stuck on the front door to the opposite building which he could have sworn had been closed when he had passed it earlier. He picked up the binoculars from the windowsill to have a closer look, just in time to see Brandt running out of the house and down the street. The agent was followed by several figures, but Ethan couldn't make out any details.

Looking back at the flat's windows he saw the chaos inside, but no movement. All rooms seemed to be empty. With a curse, he set down the binoculars and ran back down the stairs, right onto the street. The door of the safe-house wasn't locked and he entered with his gun drawn.

Now that he could see the full picture, the rooms looked even worse than they had from the outside. He stepped carefully between broken porcelain and overturned furniture, making as little noise as possible. At first, he thought the intruders had been looking for something, but as he kept looking between the clear signs of fights the rest of the chaos seemed almost random.

Ethan relaxed a little when he found the entire apartment was empty. Now he was sure he was alone he could think and look for clues. There was something very unsettling about the whole situation. He had seen Brandt leave, but there was no trace of Luther or Benji. And if the intruders hadn't been searching for anything, why make it look like they had?

The ring of his phone ripped him out of his thoughts. It was Brandt's number.

"Ethan?" The analyst sounded breathless and harried. "There's someone in our safe-house. They've got Benji and Luther. And probably Leandre and de la Vega, too."

"I know," Ethan replied curtly. "Where are you?"

"A few blocks west," Brandt answered. "They were chasing me, but I think I lost them."

Ethan thought quickly. They had to meet up, but they couldn't use his flat. It was too close to the safe-house and whoever was after them would probably come back. "Keep going," he decided. "Make sure they're not behind you anymore. Then meet me at the station."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Once he was sure he had lost his tail, Brandt had slowed his run to a brisk walk. Calling Ethan had been an impulse decision, but he felt better knowing he was not in this alone. He realigned his mental map towards the station and returned his phone into his pocket when it started buzzing again.

It was an unknown number. When he accepted he was answered by a hollow computer voice.

"If you want to see your team alive, come to the abandoned saw works in Houldsworth Street. You have half an hour. Don't be late."

Before he could reply, the line was dead.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt didn't notice Ethan until they were walking side by side. They found a bench in a quiet corner of the busy station hall and sat down.

"They called me. Right after I called you," Brandt explained and checked his watch. "They told me to come to an abandoned building in twenty minutes."

"Did they say what they want?" Ethan asked.

Brandt shook his head. "Only told me to be there."

"How far is it?"

"A mile west of the city center," Brandt said, checking his watch again. He knew he was losing time by sitting here, but he also preferred to not go alone.

Ethan nodded. They wouldn't have time to pick up any supplies, not that it was a good idea to go to the safe-house now anyway, which made things risky. "Then we better get going."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The saw works turned out to be a two-story red brick building with smashed windows that were secured with wire mesh on the ground floor. The back was walled up completely, but there were two garage doors in the front and a pedestrian entrance set into the rounded corner. When Brandt touched it, it swung open easily.

The room they entered might have been an office room once but now cardboard boxes and other junk were stacked against the walls and windows. There was just enough room to get to a second door in the back, which led to a hallway with a staircase to the second floor.

Without a word, Brandt continued exploring the ground floor while Ethan headed upstairs. On the upper level, the staircase opened into a big square room that probably had been a workshop. Markings on the concrete floor showed where machinery might have once stood. Now the bare stripped room was covered in a thick layer of dust that showed footprints and drag marks.

When he emerged from the staircase, Ethan saw a shape lying in the shadow between two of the sunny rectangles thrown on the floor by the roof-lights above. Stepping closer he could make out a human form, turned sideways, a ponytail of curly red hair floating fanned out in a pool of blood that had spread around the torso. He didn't have to examine the body any more closely to know that Adrienne Leandre was definitely dead.

Carefully Ethan stepped around the corpse and towards the door behind it. As he came closer he could hear muted screams coming from it. He opened it, but there was only another empty room behind it, similar to the first one but bigger.

The scream sounded again, an inarticulate wail of agony. Ethan's blood froze when he recognized Benji's voice. Then there was another voice, silent and calm, so low he couldn't make out what was being said. Both were coming from a second door at the other end of the room and he quickly crossed the empty space.

"I don't know," Benji shouted behind the door, repeating the words until the volume had sunk to a normal level. There was a teary quality in his voice, but also a steely resolve shining through the trembling. Then a soft thud sounded followed by a sharp crack and the words turned back into an inarticulate scream.

"You know I could do this all day," the second voice said. It was female. "Where is Ethan Hunt?"

Ethan decided that this was his cue. "I'm right here," he said, ripping open the door and stepped in. The first thing he saw was Benji sitting in the middle of the room, his torso and right arm tied to the back of the chair and the armrest respectively. His left wrist was held down on a table by a man with a hammer. Benji looked surprised to see him, but mostly alarmed.

Hunt had just enough time to realize that and that something was odd before he was hit sharply over the head from behind and blacked out.


	7. Chapter 7

_Authors note: Thanks everyone for the amazing reviews. I'm trying to keep you updated on a regular basis, but because of the holidays, I can't manage it daily. So thanks for your patience, too. If you'd rather wait it out until the full thing is up, this story has a total of ten chapters._

* * *

 **Chapter seven**

Ethan woke up on cold concrete floor, feeling wet. Looking down he realized water was dripping from his hair and suspected that that was what had woken him. His hands were tied by the wrists behind his back and before he could orient himself, someone roughly dragged him up by the shackles from behind, forcing him into a kneeling position.

Whatever residual tiredness might have lingered in his brain faded when he heard the sharp click of a gun being loaded right next to his ear. "Funny, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you here, Agent Hunt," a female voice said from behind. He tried to turn his head and look but didn't get very far before his temple connected with something hard and cold that he suspected to be a gun barrel.

Since he couldn't turn around, he looked up. It was a large brick-walled room, tire marks on the floor showing it had probably been used as a garage at some point. Across from him, about two meters away, his team was lined up.

On the left, Benji was clutching one hand to his chest with the other, while a tall man had one arm in a tight grip around his shoulders and a knife to his throat. Dunn was trying to look brave, but pain was clearly visible on his face.

In the middle was Brandt, his hands bound behind his back. The woman standing next to him who had one arm lodged under his upper arm, forcing him into a painful looking half hunched over position. Her other hand was holding a gun pointed at his neck.

And on the right there was Luther. He was being held up by a man and a woman who had grabbed him by the upper arms, the man was pointing a gun at his head. His face was swelling up in several places and a trickle of blood was running over his chin from a split lip.

"I don't think you remember me," the voice continued and Ethan recognized it as belonging to de la Vega. "I was in the training class back when you were teaching, but I don't expect you to remember that. Probably you don't remember Lindsey Farris either."

At the mention of the name Ethan flinched. He hadn't thought of her much lately, but that night in Berlin six years ago was forever etched into his memory in painful detail.

"Lindsey was my girlfriend," de la Vega hissed. "I loved her! And you sent her into the field just so she could die there. You killed her!"

"Don't listen to her!" Luther shouted. "That's not -"

He was interrupted by the fist of the woman who was holding him smacking into his jaw. The sound echoed through the room.

Logically Ethan knew that Luther was right. If anyone was to blame it was Musgrave. But he couldn't help feeling guilty, wondering for the thousandth time if he could have saved her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice sounded alien to him. "I didn't know."

De la Vega huffed in his ear. "I'm not surprised. Maybe you would have known if you would have any interest in the people around you," she said. "Maybe then you would also care for them more and not just use them as disposable pawns in your game."

"I did care for Lindsey," Ethan replied. His mouth felt dry. It was true, he had loved her like a little sister. But he couldn't allow himself to get lost in that right now. De la Vega was building up to something, and their general situation didn't look good. "I didn't want her to die."

"You know, she was really fond of you, too. Ethan Hunt, the great hero of the IMF. I even believed it, too, back then. You should have seen her, she was so proud when she got her first mission. And then you brought her back in a bag," she answered. "I even believe you that you didn't want her to die, but that doesn't make it any less your fault. Because you and the IMF, you just don't care who dies. And it's time someone makes you all pay."

Ethan felt his stomach knot. "That's not true."

De la Vega ignored him. "But I want to see how good you really are, so I'm going to give you a chance. Everyone who gets out of this room alive is free to go," she explained. "You should know that my assistants are instructed to kill once you make a move. So if you want to save your friends," she said the word with a tonality that implied quotation marks, "you better be fast."

It was impossible, Ethan realized. Even if he could knock out de la Vega and get her gun, his hands were still tied. Once he made a move, they would be dead. And even if he somehow could reach one of them in time, he would never be able to save them all. "They don't have anything to do with this," he argued. "It's me you want. Let them go."

"Nice try," de la Vega said dryly. "But if you don't even want to try, I can just kill them all and let you watch."

She dropped his cuffed hands, pushing him forward and Ethan fell hard onto his shoulder. With a hot sting, his injured ribcage protested the abuse. He took a sharp breath and tried to maneuver himself into an upright position. His cuffed hands were little help and his foot slipped on what felt like a metal grid.

Once he was steady on his knees, he looked up and surveyed the room. The walls and floor were bare except for the metal grids set into the concrete every few meters, nothing there to use. Behind the others, he could see the garage doors, but they wouldn't help if he couldn't get there.

He tested the cuffs. They held firm and barely allowed him three inches of leeway. But something clattered against it, something metallic. The bracelet. He'd have to keep her talking a little longer.

"We tried to save her," he said looking up.

Benji was scared. Ethan could see it in his eyes, although the rest of his face was a perfect cold mask. His eyes widened when their gaze met.

"It was Musgrave who set her up."

Brandt gave him a tiny nod, but the resignation in his eyes barely changed.

Luther didn't look up. Ethan couldn't even tell if he was conscious. It just would have to work.

"And Musgrave is conveniently dead," de la Vega sighed.

Ethan felt for the grid below his knee. The spacing was tight, but it would be broad enough. He tucked his feet under his chest. His muscles tensed like a loaded spring.

Feeling for the magnetic clasp, Ethan opened the bracelet. A row of small black pearls fell off the string and through the space in the grid into the underground waterways. Ethan jumped up. Taking a simultaneous step backwards connected his skull with de la Vega's sternum.

At the same time, there was a loud explosive sound. Thick smoke shot up through the sewage grids and quickly enveloped the room.

He managed to grasp one of de la Vega's hands and catapulted her over his shoulder. Quickly he jumped over his bound hands to bring them to the front while she rolled over and took aim. Before she could fire, he seized her gun and kicked at her head. When she let go, he stumbled backwards.

Once he had his balance back, he looked around. The smoke had filled up the room entirely, taking away his orientation. He could barely see his own hands in front of him, de la Vega was covered entirely.

Then two gunshots sounded to his right in close succession.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Benji knew to brace himself for something although he wasn't sure what. When nothing happened immediately, he was getting increasingly nervous. Ethan obviously had a plan, but that wasn't always a good thing.

The knife edge scraped against his skin like a razor blade. He had made very close contact with this kind of situation only a couple of months before, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. But there was not much he could do, his adversary had longer arms than him and had him in a vicelike grip. He was starting to sweat.

Then there suddenly was an explosive noise below them and momentarily they were enveloped in white smoke. Only for an instant, his captor loosened his grip in surprise, but the agent had been ready for the past six seconds. His uninjured right hand shot up and he managed to jam it in between the knife and his neck until he got hold of the man's wrist. Tripping him with one foot, he threw the goon onto his side and then, using the same foot, twisted his neck beyond the limits it was designed for with a strong kick.

His captor had landed right next to one of the sewage grids and when he bent down he inhaled a lungful of smoke. Coughing and cursing he retrieved the knife and tried to find some sense of orientation when the gunshots echoing from beyond the white wall made him flinch. He cursed some more, this time about his own skittishness and carefully moved in the direction it had come from. Despite his caution, he ran straight into someone else.

Brandt turned around to him sharply, but let out a short sigh when he recognized the other agent. His scraped knuckles were clasping the gun he had retrieved from his own adversary, who was now lying on the floor with a bullet through her chin.

They stepped forward together as the smoke started dissipating. A moment later they were joined by Ethan who was obviously relieved to see them. When they turned back they could see shadows moving behind the curtain of smoke still lingering. There was a sound of metal scraping over the floor and another gunshot, then one of the figures fell.

"Luther!" Ethan shouted, darting forward although he couldn't see where he was going. The others followed.

"I'm fine," Luther replied, although when he bent down to pick up the gun of his second adversary, his movements were stiff and he spoke with a slight lisp from his swollen lip. "Don't worry about me."

There was a moment of relieved silence, then Benji coughed again.

"Did you use all of them?" he asked in a high-pitched voice. "Are you crazy?"

Ethan only gave him a tired smile. "Let's get out of here."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter eight**

They decided it was still too dangerous to go back to their original safe-house or Ethan's flat, in case there was still someone watching the street, so Brandt pulled another IMF apartment from his memory and they headed there. The manifest was set in underneath the doorbell and opened readily, but when Brandt offered it his palm print, it refused to open the door. He tried a second time with the same result. "We're locked out of the system," he stated with a frown.

Ethan wordlessly took the knife Benji had carried along, broke open the side cover and shorted the wires. The door-lock clicked and he stepped inside.

Brandt headed straight for the kitchenette to check out the coffee machine while Luther searched the cupboards for medical supplies. Ethan went to help him but was quickly convinced that the other agent was fine on his own. In fact, the split lip had stopped bleeding and now in proper light, the bruising and swelling didn't look as bad as it had earlier.

"I'm sorry I dragged you all into this mess," Ethan said when they were all gathered around the table and Brandt distributed cups of fresh coffee.

"Well, we made it out alive," Benji replied and tried a smile but the previous hours were still hanging over all of them like a dark shadow.

"We're still locked out of the system," Brandt pointed out, turning his mug over in his hands.

"So what?" Luther asked. He was cleaning up the cut on Benji's right hand that turned out not as deep as it had looked and wouldn't even need stitches. "I'm sure you got Hunley on speed dial."

"Right," Brandt muttered and fished his phone out of his pocket, but Ethan caught his hand in mid-air.

"Wait," he said with a look of sudden revelation. "I'm officially disavowed, but you aren't. You shouldn't be locked out of the system."

"Probably de la Vega called it in," Luther suggested. He had finished the bandage on Benji's right hand and was taking a closer look at the left one. The middle, ring and pinky finger were broken in several places.

"Yeah, and the sooner I call Hunley the sooner all of this is cleared up and we can go home," Brandt decided.

"Wait," Ethan said again, louder this time. "De la Vega said she wanted to make _us_ pay. Me and the IMF. What if she had a contingency plan? What if there is another agent involved in this?"

Benji's eyes suddenly went wide and he inhaled sharply. "They got the virus!"

"I thought we had preemptive measures installed into the IMF mainframe specifically against Black Rabbit after the disaster in February?" Brandt asked, not comprehending.

"We have," Luther replied. "And they're working."

"Yeah, but if they have someone who knows how to manipulate access rights without throwing up any red flags that person would also know that if you upload it onto one of the servers just before an update it would get right past the firewall," Benji explained rapidly. "Anything the virus does would just look like standard operations and it works too fast to catch it by hand. It would corrupt the whole IMF network."

"Shit," Luther muttered, playing the scenario through in his head, while he set Benji's broken fingers in a cast. "He's right. We'd have to stop them before the server resets after the update, even if the update is interrupted, the virus would probably only need a millisecond to spread."

"Then let me call Hunley and he'll stop the next server update," Brandt suggested halfheartedly.

"But we don't know who de la Vega's inside man is," Ethan reminded him. "If Hunley stops the server update, he'll at least suspect someone's onto him and then he can figure out another way."

"And we can't just put off all server updates forever," Benji agreed glumly.

Brandt sighed. He suspected Ethan already had a plan, and he also suspected he wouldn't like it. "So what are we going to do?"

Hunt was staring ahead of himself thoughtfully, looking through the table rather than at it. "How are those updates scheduled?"

"They are rotated through the major updates every two weeks," Luther explained. "So there's only one server down at any time."

"Actually I think there's one server scheduled to go back online tomorrow," Benji put in. "Faro, Portugal. If I'm not mistaken."

Ethan looked up. "Are you sure?"

Benji nodded, but before he could say anything he was interrupted.

"Wait, is your plan to break into an IMF server facility?" Brandt asked. "Because that's insane."

"I hate to tell you, but he's right," Luther agreed.

"No, we can do it," Ethan insisted. "We've got everything we need." He got up and walked over to a wall that turned into a hidden closet once he pressed a concealed button. Piece by piece he retrieved gear from the closet and stacked it onto the table, including several laptop computers and a portable mask machine. "We're going to impersonate someone with access to the facility."

"Like who?" Luther asked.

"De la Vega," Ethan stated, sorting through more hidden closets.

Brandt waited a moment for more details, but when Hunt wasn't more forthcoming he asked: "And who would be impersonating her?"

"We'll figure it out," Ethan replied.

"We don't have any women here," Benji pointed out.

"We'll figure it out," Ethan repeated.

"And have you thought about how you want to do that?" Luther asked. "This is an IMF facility with top-notch security. Even if we go back to that garage and drag out her body to scan her for a mask, we don't know her code and you can't beat a retina scan."

Ethan ignored him. "Benji, if we take someone's retina scan and hers and overlay them onto a set of contacts...?"

"Well, we're gonna have to be really careful with the alignment, but I think I can make it work," Dunn said and walked around the table to the computers. "And for the voice phrase, we can just use the original recording."

"Wait, for that you'd need access to her file. On the server," Brandt pointed out and watched while Ethan and Benji exchanged a conspiratorial glance. He looked at them sternly. "We don't have access to the server."

Dunn bit his lip. "Actually..." he started but then broke off.

"What did you do?" Luther asked.

"It was my idea," Ethan put in soothingly, but the other agent didn't care.

"That doesn't make it any better."

Benji took a deep breath, then started to explain: "After Ghost Protocol I built a back door to the IMF server net, so if we got another shut-down we wouldn't be left hanging completely, and then the CIA took over and they didn't shut the network down, and I had a bit too much free time, so I kept working on it. It's how Ethan and I stayed in contact back then and how he got his intel," he said in a rapid verbal waterfall. "Anyway, the idea is to have a mirror of the complete server network, like a backup. We're not quite there yet, but I should be able to get into de la Vegas file unnoticed and get us everything we need."

Luther still looked at him crossly. "You know what kind of security risk it is to have an open back door into the IMF server mainframe?"

"It's not open," Benji defended him. "It's pretty secure actually. You tested it."

"Wait, you said that was just an experiment," Luther stated. "A closed network."

Before Benji could answer, Brandt interrupted him: "Who knows about this?"

"Me, Ethan," Benji said. "And you now."

Brandt sighed, clearly not happy with the situation, but willing to accept it. "Alright," he said. "And you're sure you can do this?"

"Well, I'm gonna need someone to help me type," Benji pointed out and looked at Luther. The older techie sighed and joined him at the computer.

Ethan smiled and looked at Brandt. "We're going to need a plane."

Without a word the analyst raised his phone and pressed dial.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine**

The woman walked into the store as if she owned the place. She casually glanced down the rows of wine bottles stacked neatly into rustic wooden shelves, until the clerk walked up to her.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," the woman replied in good but accented Portuguese. "I am looking for something special."

"Is there something specific you have in mind?" the clerk asked.

"A red wine. Sweet, juicy, a little spicy," the woman contemplated. "Berry flavor, maybe a touch of vanilla."

The clerk looked through the shelf next to them, then picked out a bottle. "I would recommend this Aragones," she said, presenting the wine. "A late last year's vintage, very rich."

"I was looking for something with more of a dusty note on the finish," the woman replied, not even looking at it.

The clerk smiled and replaced the bottle. "In this case, please follow me into the cellar."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Good morning." The security guard nodded a greeting as the woman walked up to his desk. She was moving her tall and slender figure with the kind of authority that immediately identified her as a field agent. He couldn't tell if the face framed by dark wavy hair was suntanned or naturally dark. In either case, he decided, she was really good-looking.

"If you would put your right palm..."

The man broke off when she held up her hands, one bandaged, the other in a cast.

"I'm sorry," he interrupted himself and attempted some small talk while he adjusted the system. "Bad day, huh?"

"More so for the other guy," the agent replied with a patient smile.

The security guard quickly changed the topic. "I'm going to need a spoken pass-code and a retina scan, please."

The agent calmly gave him both and the computer accepted the identification with a soft ping.

"Agent de la Vega." The guard handed her a pass that she clipped to the front of her blazer. "If you need anything, just call down."

The woman gave him another patient smile. "I'll be fine, thanks," she replied and passed through the door behind his desk.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Benji strode down the corridor, concentrating on not tripping over his own feet. Despite the practice rounds he had done earlier the heeled shoes still felt very unstable and the tight shape-wear they had forced him into wasn't helping. Although he was doing his best to project confidence he was acutely aware that he wasn't looking as graceful as he should. He couldn't tell how some women could stand to walk in heels all day every day. He would have to ask Skye about that once they were back.

"I'm in," he whispered into his radio headset as soon as he was out of earshot. Then he called up his mental image of the map they had found on the IMF server. The facility wasn't very big and he quickly found what he was looking for. It was a small room on the first level that held two work stations with direct access to the server data but not the actual server functions.

The real back-end was reserved for authorized technicians and if he would have come in as himself he would have had access to that, too. The problem was that to just have the virus file on the server when it reconnected to the network was enough to get it into the whole system. On the plus side, thanks to his knowledge of the server structure and the back-door he had built, they had written a program that should allow Luther to get back-end control of the server.

He sat down in front of one of the two screens and looked for the USB port. As he couldn't see one on the desk he looked underneath and indeed found one there. He plugged in the flash drive that was also a transmitter interface and got an immediate confirmation from Luther that the up-link was working.

He hadn't heard the door open and when he looked up he could see a man sitting at the other work station. He was average height, dark-skinned, with slight stubble over his cheeks and a motorcycle jacket on that seemed highly inappropriate for southern Portugal climate. Disturbingly, he seemed to recognize Benji, although the techie was sure he hadn't seen him before. Because he didn't recognize him, he realized, but de la Vega.

"Hey, Ricky," the man confirmed his suspicion with a broad grin. "What are you doing here?"

"Change of plans," Benji replied with a nonchalant shrug that he regretted immediately when he felt his bra slip.

The man meanwhile was concentrating on his screen again, then suddenly looked back at Benji with a tight look. His cheeky demeanor suddenly became slightly intimidating. "You're not Ricarda," he said. It was a statement.

Benji swallowed. He had also glanced at his screen and was sure now. Ethan had been right. This man was de la Vega's backup plan. He was here to upload the virus.

Also, he was probably a fully trained agent and contrary to him had full use of his hands. Benji just had enough time to get up.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"And we're in," Luther commented with an anticipatory grin. They had modified the up-link program they had used in Brussels to tap directly into Benji's back-door, giving him enough access to get into the server structure. But first, he made a detour via the server facility's security network. Once he was finished he leaned back with a smile. "You're good to go."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Benji stepped back and felt the wall in his back. The other man was between him and the only door. Although they were still a meter apart the techie could smell his cheap aftershave. He raised his arms in defense, knowing that he couldn't do much more than that.

The other agent crossed the space between them with a single step. He ripped off the mask by the hair and stared.

Using the other man's obvious surprise, Benji rammed his elbow into his adversary's stomach. He stumbled backwards, but at the same time snapped out of his stun. Before the techie could lunge for the door, he grabbed him by the arm and pushed him back against the wall.

Benji tried to hit something vital with his knee, but the man had him in a strong grip and there was not much he could do as he saw the fist coming at this face. And then it stopped in mid-air when the vent shaft cover fell from the ceiling and hit him on the shoulder.

The man in the biker jacket turned around sharply, shoving him against the desk in the process, and narrowly escaped being hit by Ethan dropping out of the air duct. Loudly screaming for help, he flung himself at the other agent.

Hunt caught both his wrists before the fists could hit his face, but couldn't avoid the knee that hit him in the stomach. He staggered backwards, but quickly caught himself, then tripped him over his foot and rammed his knee into the man's face who promptly collapsed onto the floor.

"What's going on?" a concerned voice asked over the radio.

"Nothing," Ethan replied suppressing a pained groan.

Meanwhile, Benji returned to the computer screen. "Uh, Luther," he said with a hint of anxiety creeping into his voice. "They initialized the up-link. And the server is still connected to the satellite."

"I know," Luther answered sourly. "Can you disconnect it manually?"

"Yeah, right," Benji replied and settled down behind the screen, but before he could do anything was interrupted by the door flying open.

Two security guards with bullet-proof vests and assault rifles stepped in and surveyed the scene. Somehow the one who seemed to be in charge managed to keep his professional mask up. "Let me see your hands!" he barked. "And step away from that keyboard!"

Both Ethan and Benji complied. As Dunn slowly moved away from the desk he could see that behind the two security guards there were more outside in the corridor, including the one who had let him in earlier and was now looking somewhat disturbed.

"What's going on here?" the first guard asked in the same drill-sergeant voice.

The man who had been punched down by Ethan was coming back around and staggered to his feet. "He broke in," he lisped through a broken tooth, pointing unsteadily.

"That's correct," Ethan replied calmly. He started to add an explanation but was interrupted.

"How did you get in here?" the drill-sergeant asked on.

With a sigh, Hunt pointed one finger up at the still open access to the vent shaft. "Sir," he said very calmly. "Please, listen to me."

In that moment Luther was on the radio again, sounding defeated: "They have started the upload."

Then all the lights went out.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Brandt's liking for vent shafts had not increased since Christmas and he wouldn't have thought he'd find himself in one so soon again. With half an ear he listened to the radio chatter as he crawled along. What he heard was sounding progressively bad.

When he finally reached the room he was headed for, he peered down into the darkness. He shone his flashlight through the grid to make sure, but there wasn't much for him to see, so he just levered the cover out of its frame and dropped down.

Looking around he found himself in a maintenance room with walls and ceiling covered in pipes and cables. From the adjacent room, he could hear the low hum of computer cooling vents.

He turned around and looked at a whole wall of fuse-box covers. Not knowing where to start, he ripped open all of the thin metal doors and started to decipher the half-faded notes attached to the individual buttons or levers.

"Luther...?" he started, wanting to ask which switch he was looking for, but the techie was faster and cut him off.

"They have started the upload," he said. "And the server connection is still up."

No time, Brandt decided and flipped everything that looked like it could be the main breaker.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"What's going on?" The drill-sergeant-like security guard almost shouted now, half turning back to the man behind him, but still keeping one eye on Benji and Ethan. The thin glow of the emergency exit sign above him, which was the only source of light now, was making him look very pale.

There seemed to be some conversation going on in the background or on his radio, and he clenched his teeth. "Then someone go and check that out!" He was definitely shouting now. Then he turned back to the three agents. "Did you do that?"

"We've just been standing here," Benji pointed out.

The guard huffed sarcastically. "Whatever, you're coming with us," he decided and took a step back to give them space to get out. Ethan and Benji calmly stepped forward, but the third agent was hanging back and the guard gave him a stern look. "All of you."

"I didn't do anything," the man protested, clearly unwilling to move. "They broke in here!"

"He tried to hack the server," Ethan put in.

"It's not technically hacking," Benji pointed out but decided not to elaborate.

The head of the security guards was apparently running out of patience. He waved at two of his men and they flanked the reluctant man, threatening to stun him, should he resist.

The procession was almost at the door when the leader halted them with a wave of his hand. His gaze was slightly unfocused indicating he was listening to someone on his radio. "Well, then get the lights back on and get him..." he started loudly, then broke off and his eyes went wide. For a moment everything was silent, then he incredulously asked: "What?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The hum from the adjacent room stopped abruptly when Brandt flicked the switch and quickly replaced by a louder noise that he identified as an emergency generator.

"That did it," Luther confirmed over the radio. "No trace of the virus on the server net."

"Well, that's good," Brandt muttered and looked around. There was no way he was going to get back up in the air vent, so he turned to the door and opened it with his skeleton key. The corridor outside was illuminated by a pale green emergency exit sign, so he switched off his flash-light.

Just as he stepped out of the door, he heard footsteps from behind. For a moment he considered potential hiding places, but he had already been discovered.

"Stop!" a female voice shouted behind him. "Show me your hands! And turn around, slowly."

Brandt slowly raised his hands and turned to face the woman.

"This is Chang," the woman said, obviously talking to her radio. "We found another intruder on the maintenance level.

When Brandt looked at her, she had one hand still on her ear-piece, the other was aiming an assault rifle at him that he suspected was loaded with IMF-issue stun bolts. She had her gaze fixed sharply on him, but when she recognized him it took her a moment to pick up her jaw. "Sir, I think the intruder is the Chief Analyst," she hissed into her radio, but the agent heard it anyway.

The young man accompanying her incredulously stared first at his colleague, then at Brandt who gave him an encouraging smile. "At least you got that right."

Even in the pale light, he could see Chang blushing. "Sir, how did you get in here?" she asked in a thin voice.

"Through the ventilation system," Brandt answered truthfully, then changed the topic. "I need to talk to your superior, there has been a serious security breach."

"We did find two intruders on the main level," Chang put in.

"I know," Brandt replied. He had already suspected that Benji's entrance had been discovered and was glad Ethan was backing the techie up. "But it's a bit more complicated than that. That's why I need to talk to someone in charge."

Chang considered this for a moment, then nodded. "I'll take you to McManus," she decided. "Mitchell, you get the power back online."

The younger security guard nodded and turned to the maintenance room Brandt had come out of, but the analyst stepped in his way. "I'm afraid I can't authorize that," he said. His stance was relaxed with his hands by his side.

Although Brandt was unarmed, contrary to the security guards, Mitchell decided it was a bad idea to pick a fight with a fully trained field-agent, especially considering that agent was technically his superior. Hesitantly he took a step back and looked at Chang for help.

"Mitchell, stay here and let nobody into this room, until and unless I say so," he ordered, looking at the young man.

"Sir, we need the power,..." Chang put in, but Brandt cut her off.

He knew that the emergency generators were enough to run the security systems. Which, he thought with slight amusement, were now run by Luther, a fact the security personnel seemed to not have noticed yet. However, it was not enough to run the server, which was the important part. "On my order, and my authority," he decided. It was enough to satisfy the two security guards and Mitchell took his post in front of the maintenance room.

Chang, her face still significantly darker than it naturally was, motioned at the corridor that Brandt knew led to the main staircase. "This way, please, sir."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Charles McManus, head of security for the IMF server facility in Faro, Portugal quietly observed the scene while he waited for Chang to show up with her charge. He had never been a field-agent himself, nor had he ever wanted to be, instead going straight into the security branch after ten years of army service and worked his way up there. He liked the remote location, precisely because it was usually quiet and they didn't have to deal with the kind of weird things that happened on a semi-regular basis back in D.C.

Still, he had enough experience to figure out that the three men in front of him were likely field-agents and there was something extraordinarily strange going on. He knew at least two of them had somehow gotten past his security, and looking at the ceiling he had a fairly good idea how, only that it should have been impossible. The only access to the ventilation system was inside the facility, all pipes that lead outside were too small but up until he had entered the room, there had been no sign of the security breach.

The men also were a mystery to him. The small guy with the weird hazel hair and the one in women's clothes were astonishingly calm, although the eyes of the latter looked huge under the slightly smudged mascara, while the one with the busted face was spouting wild accusations. Granted, the accusations the other two were directing at him were just as wild, but they seemed much more collected. Somehow McManus found he trusted them more, but something about their calm made him profoundly uneasy. Especially since the lights had gone out and all the urgency they had exhibited earlier had suddenly gone.

McManus turned around when he heard steps coming down the corridor and suddenly knew what was making him so uneasy. He felt like he wasn't in control anymore, just as Chang wasn't in control of the man walking in front of her with long authoritative strides. He had only seen him a few times before, but the security chief immediately recognized William Brandt, although the black t-shirt and cargo pants looked a little misplaced on the analyst.

"Chang," he barked when the duo was only a few meters away. "Why are the lights still out?"

The woman's face turned dark again, but Brandt answered in her stead. "My orders," he said curtly and fished his phone out of his trouser pocket. "You're in charge here?"

"Yes, sir," McManus said exaggeratedly sharp. "Sir, I will need to ID you."

"I understand that, but your identification software taps straight into this server instead of the network, so to do that, you would need power. Right?" Brandt didn't wait for an answer before he continued: "The problem is that either of us could have altered that data before the power went out. For that matter, this man has attempted to sabotage the server."

He nodded at the man still flanked by two of McManus' guards whose face was starting to look pale under the trickles of blood running from his nose and mouth.

"Apart from that we currently have full access to the server, so if we were hostile intruders it wouldn't help you to check me against the data there," Brandt continued as if he was talking about the weather. "And if you do insist on powering up the server right now, Agent Stickell will gladly prove to you that you are no longer in control of your systems."

McManus blanched at the mention of the name. He glanced back to the two men standing in the door, while it slowly dawned on him who he was dealing with. Suppressing a curse he looked at the analyst again who was offering the security chief his phone. He accepted it and saw there was an ongoing call. "Yes?" he answered, then any color that had remained drained from his face. "Mr. Secretary, sir," he stammered disbelievingly.

Ethan leaned back against the door-frame with a sigh. All that was left to do now was clean-up and paperwork. The adrenalin rush was fading and he was starting to feel the effects of not sleeping enough the previous night. Or the night before that, he thought with a bitter smile.

Tired, he rubbed his eyes. There also was a dull ache emanating from his stomach. He hadn't thought the other man had hit him that hard earlier. Or maybe it was just his body telling him that it was time to take a few days off.

"Fuck," McManus breathed when he had ended the call and handed the phone back to Brandt. He was starting to realize that his problems were only scratching the top of the shit-heap they were in. "Let's discuss this in my office," he finally decided, then nodded at the two guards still flanking the beat-up man. "Take him into custody."

The guards seized the man by the arms before he could do anything and dragged him out. McManus ordered two other men to accompany them, then waved the agents to follow him.

Ethan let Benji go first, then pushed himself off the wall. He was looking forward to sitting down, and hopefully a cup of coffee when suddenly the dull ache turned into a hot, stabbing pain. He staggered forward, stretching out his hand to catch something to hold onto. Deep breath, he thought, just stay on your feet. But before his hand could find the wall, his knees caved in and he collapsed onto the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten**

When Ethan woke up he felt nauseous. It was a weird feeling, sense of vertigo although he was lying down accompanied by a queasiness as if his organs had been turned inside out. Overall, he wasn't feeling very well, but somehow that was okay. It even felt weirdly familiar.

Sleepily he looked around. He was in a room with lots of people. They were talking to him, but only fragments of the conversation reached his conscious mind. Then he was in a smaller room with fewer people. And then he was alone.

He had no idea where he was or how he got here, but still, everything was okay. Slowly it started to drift through the haze in his mind that he was suffering the aftereffects of anesthesia. That mystery solved, he leaned back into the soft pillow with a sigh, when the door opened.

A woman in a white lab-coat stepped in. Ethan decided she was a doctor.

She started explaining something in a mix of accented English, Portuguese and medical Latin. Ethan caught a few words, something about a serial costal fracture and gastric hemorrhage. His brain was still too slow to process that information, so he stored it for later.

When the doctor realized her patient wasn't quite following, she stopped. "Mr. Hunt, there are visitors for you outside," she said instead. "Do you think you are well enough to see them?"

Ethan blinked at her slowly. "Yeah, sure," he said. The doctor didn't look convinced, so he tried it with a smile. "Would you send them in, please?"

She still looked less than happy but nodded. "Take it easy," she warned him. "I'll check in on you again later." Then she turned around and when she was gone Brandt, Benji and Luther stepped in. Quite some time must have passed since Ethan had last seen them because Brandt was back in a suit. Also, Benji's left hand was now in a proper splint instead of the makeshift cast Luther had given him the previous day and his right hand was no longer bandaged.

Ethan was suddenly aware that outside his window the sky was growing darker. "Hey," he said with a happy grin. The others looked at him with an all too familiar mix of concern and relief. Slowly his brain sobered up. "What happened?"

"You remember back in Brussels when I told you that broken rib looks bad?" Luther asked.

"Yeah," Ethan replied, thinking hard. That night seemed ages away.

"That broken rib punctured your stomach," Luther finished.

"Oh," Ethan answered. That explained a lot.

"You know, I'd tell you to be more careful if I thought that would actually do anything," Luther added dryly.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said with a wry smile.

"On brighter news," Brandt put in, "we're not disavowed anymore. That is technically we've never been disavowed. Hunley was kind enough to clear that up."

"That's good," Ethan replied. With considerable effort, he maneuvered himself into a more upright position. "What about the virus?"

"Was indeed on the server," Benji explained cheerfully. "The good news is, it was the master-copy and there were no other copies made, so we're safe from that now. And it didn't get into the network, but we did have to purge the server and they're doing a full back-up now."

Ethan only smiled back at him tiredly. Suddenly he was feeling very exhausted.

Brandt caught his glance. "I think we should let you get some rest now," he decided and herded the others out. In the door, he turned around. "By the way, Dr. Lee heard of this and she said she wouldn't let you back into active fieldwork for at least the next six weeks, so Hunley suggested you take some time off until then."

Ethan smiled knowingly. "See you in six weeks."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Ethan paid the taxi driver and shouldered his bag, then looked up at the building towering before him. He had only been mildly surprised this morning when the reception had called up to his hotel room to tell him his taxi was waiting and that he was now standing in front of the Aeroporto de Faro was hardly more than the logical conclusion.

It was almost seven weeks since he had woken up in the hospital and while he had enjoyed the vacation in the coastal town, he had almost reached the point where doing nothing was more exhausting than actual work. He was looking forward to going back.

That in mind, he walked up to the counter and asked for a ticket to D.C.

"I'm sorry," the woman at the counter replied with a charming smile. "But all our flights to the states are fully booked for the rest of the week."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. The foyer of the airport was almost empty, and it wasn't summer yet. The tourist season was still to come.

The woman didn't miss a beat. "However I can make you a very good offer for a flight to Belfast, Mr. Hunt," she said without breaking eye contact and discretely pushed a ticket across the counter.

Ethan glanced down at it only to find the familiar logo engraved into the thick paper. "Belfast," he repeated with a smile of anticipation, then looked back up. "Please, tell me more."

* * *

 _Once again thanks everyone for reading and the awesome reviews!_

 _I've already started the next story, but real life keeps leveling up, so I don't know how long it's going to take me to get it finished._

 _Until then, I hope you all have a good start into the new year!_


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